Star Cruiser
by WarlordFil
Summary: A young Cybertronian, with nothing to his name but his dreams, throws in his lot with another lost soul...only to discover that salvation and damnation can come hand-in-hand. Part of the "Tempest Cycle." Complete.


DISCLAIMER: Transformers, Autobots and Decepticons are trademarks of Hasbro. The Rokkans were created by Don A. Martinez and are used with permission. The Sirians were created by Amy K. Cyrway and are used with permission. All other characters are mine.

Thanks to Amy K. Cyrway for the tape of "Star Cruiser" and to Dylan P. Blacquiere for helping me plot this tale.

This story has a sequel, "Cruising Me," which is purely an add-on to this story and which is for mature readers. "Star Cruiser" is a complete story in itself; I created the sequel so that those who did not want to read M-rated stories could still enjoy this part of the tale.

**Star Cruiser**

_I'll never forget the first star cruiser I saw  
Moving alongside but well spaced out  
She was looking for me, so I went aboard  
It was dark in her hold  
And almost as cold  
As the infinite vacuum itself!_

_We set off through space at a moderate rate  
Going faster than light but not worried  
I wondered a mite 'bout my forthcoming fate  
She was pulsing out fire  
As her gauges read higher  
Than anything I could believe in!_

_  
She was a  
Star cruiser, star star cruiser  
Star cruiser, star star cruiser  
She was a mean star cruiser  
And she was cruising me..._

–-"Star Cruiser" by Michael Moorcock and The Deep Fix

The rundown shack of a bar that slouched behind Sapphiro's refuelling station was called The Last Best Place. Being "best" was easy when it was the only bar...or for that matter, the only refuellling station...on the desolate hunk of rock named the Sapphiro Moon. "Last" it most certainly was...the last place for those who had no further to fall.

"LAST CALL!" bellowed Gnarth, the heavy-set Rokkan who was owner, manager and barkeep all in one. The creature was a heavy-set, thirty-foot tall gargoyle-like being with long horns and canine features. He ran a rag over a glass and called it "clean" as one by one, the various beings in the bar either made their way out, or came up for one last drink.

A small robot with a wedge-shaped helmet on his head poked his face out of the door that led to the kitchen. He was painted in a camouflage pattern of hunter green and rich brown, and right now he'd have blended right into the background if he could. The last think he wanted was to attract the Rokkan's attention. ~Primus, the place is a mess, and Gnarth is in an even fouler mood than usual.~ The robot, barely an adolescent, kicked listlessly at the broom by the door. As soon as the place shut, he was going to have his work cut out for him.

But until then...oh, until then...

The little Cybertronian scampered out the back of the kitchen and stepped outside onto Sapphiro's barren soil. Lifting a few empty crates into a makeshift staircase, the robot clambered up onto the rusted balcony that hung from the second story. By standing on the balcony railing, he could reach the overhanging roof and pull himself up. He dared not risk transforming...even over the noise in the bar, Gnarth would have picked up the sound of his twin turbines.

Lying with his back on the roof and his hands behind his head, the robot watched the twinkling stars and planets high overhead. They were strewn out like diamonds on black velvet, the way he'd once seen a Sirian thief showing off his wares. Diamonds, and almost within his reach, from his vantage point on the roof.

And he thought....thought not of his miserable life as a servant in the bar, nor of the Autobot raid that had destroyed the place he'd once called home. No, he thought of a faroff planet, from which his ancestors had come.

His ancestors had once been Decepticon royalty--and he was really a Duke. Duke Harrier of the ancient Decepticon nobility.

"HARRIER!" bellowed Gnarth from below. "Get your lazy airframe in here and start working!"

Hmph. Who did Gnarth think he was, ordering around an aristocrat in such a manner?

"Get in here or do without any fuel tonight!"

Harrier jolted upright, leaping down to the balcony and wriggling his way inside the upstairs so as to preserve the secrecy of his little hideout on the roof. "Coming!" he yelled, grabbing a mop as he ran by.

Minutes later, Harrier found himself once again swabbing the floor, while Gnarth counted the money in the till and grumbled about poor pickings on the black market. Harrier ducked his head and tried to avoid the Rokkan's wrath. Finally, to Harrier's good fortune, the bartender took the money out of the till and wandered off to his own quarters, leaving the little Transformer alone with the mop and his thoughts.

The Last, Best Place. No fit lodgings for a Decepticon noble. Harrier sighed and scrubbed extra hard at a persistent spot on the floor.

Through the window, one single bright star winked down at him. The young Decepticon paused, looking upward for a moment, and then continued with his work. He knew better than to make Gnarth angry...rubbed for a moment at the deep dent on the right side of his face that was a souvenir of Gnarth's wrath.

No fit life, indeed.

He risked the time to take one more glance upward at the star.

He could always dream.

***

_She was burning me up and squeezing me out  
As the universe grew all around us  
My eyes filled with silver, there was gold in my mouth  
I longed for a drink  
I just couldn't think!  
And the speed, it got faster and faster!_

_  
We arrived at her base, and she showed me her face  
Just a glimpse for a second, it downed me  
I was really knocked out by her sweet fluid grace  
I saw my fate written there  
But by now, did not care!  
I was loyal! I loved her! I signed on!_

_  
She was a  
Star cruiser, star star cruiser  
Star cruiser, star star cruiser  
She was a mean star cruiser  
And she was cruising me..._

***

Harrier was curled up in rest cycle by the heater when the door slammed open the next afternoon, startling him to wakefulness. Four strangers sauntered inside, all Cybertronian. Their eyes were dark; their strides were rangy; their stature gave off an aura of brashness and danger.

Harrier recognized the leader at once. A young tough just out of adolescence, name of Backfire, and a nasty customer all round. Harrier touched the rusting hole on his left arm and sighed. If it wasn't Gnarth, it was one of Gnarth's customers. Backfire was in and out of the Last Best Place often, and by watching and listening Harrier had learned that Backfire sold things he had stolen to Gnarth, who fenced them for him. With him were two hoods--Backfire had a whole gang of them, but he only brought one or two along for protection to the Last Best Place--and, as usual, Backfire's current girlfriend. Although Backfire would beat the oil out of him if he caught him looking, Harrier took a look anyway.

At first, Harrier was somewhat disappointed. The new girl was a Seeker, yellow with blue trim. Seekers--a model that made fit enough soldiers, Harrier had heard, but hardly counted for much in the looks department. Backfire liked his girls slim, curvy, and wide-eyed. The Seeker was lean but solid, and her square corners proved that she'd been designed with military concerns predominant. Harrier gave the girl two lunar cycles, tops.

Gnarth came lumbering out of the back and grinned immediately. "Backfire, my boy. What do you have for me?"

"A hundred pounds of plutonium and a sack of cybersilicate crystals," Backfire retorted, then added sarcastically, "and it's nice to see you too." The two thugs placed a pair of bags down on the bar.

Gnarth frowned. "That ALL you got? Why'd you bother even coming here?"

"Deposits." Backfire grinned, a cold smile splitting his brilliant yellow-and-black striped face.

"Come to think of it, it's time you paid your banker." Gnarth leered over the bar and smirked.

"I don't think so. I'm paid on my rent for that vault."

"Let's see what you're stashing in my vault, and then I'll decide if you're paid up or not."

In a second, Gnarth found himself staring down the arm cannon of the female Seeker. "I think he's paid up," she hissed.

Gnarth was taken aback. The female's eyes were blazing red and his usual bouncers were nowhere in sight. "How dare you..."

She jerked her arm a little and singed half of Gnarth's beard off. "Next shot takes your head. Now let us into the vault."

Then Backfire grabbed her arm and jerked it away. "Tempest, Tempest," he chided, "none of that. We'll conduct our business as gentlemen." His expression said something different. ~Leadership is my job. Stay out of it.~

Tempest's optics burned, but she dropped her arm and said nothing.

Gnarth, evidently shaken, was quiet and gestured for the young pirates to follow him.

Harrier's jaw was practically resting on his chestplate. No one, NO ONE had ever had the nerve to stand up to Gnarth that way! He looked at the female Seeker with more than a little respect. Come to think of it, she was kind of attractive in a way...a way that was cool and deadly. Hers was the beauty of a precision weapon, the sleekness of a laser barrel, the gleam of metal wrought to kill.

Certainly not Backfire's type. The pirate liked soft and stupid entertainment bots--he preferred to keep the killing for himself. Overwhelmed by curiousity and more than a little admiration, Harrier dropped his mop and flattened himself against the doorpost as he listened to the footsteps recede. Keeping to the shadows, he followed Gnarth and the pirates down the staircase to the basement corridor, which led to a damp little room where Gnarth ran his informal bank and trading post.

"Leave us," he heard Backfire say to Gnarth.

"But..." and as if knowing any more words would be futile, Gnarth's heavy footsteps began moving back down the corridor, towards Harrier.

The little robot gasped. Gnarth would...

Looking upwards, he caught sight of a moldy rafter overhead. Without waiting another instant, Harrier briefly fired his VTOL turbines and rose up, clutching hold of the beam and swinging himself onto it.

"What was that?" Gnarth growled, lumbering into view, but though he looked around, he did not look up. Harrier's fuel pump was in his throat for the moments it took Gnarth to continue walking down the corridor.

When all was clear, Harrier jumped down from the beam. His fuel froze when Gnarth yelled down the stairs, "You'd better not touch anything, you hear?"

The only response was Backfire's raucous laughter.

Harrier slunk through the gloom until he could see the dim light cast by a single photon torch. He crouched against the wall and slowly leaned around the corner. The pirates were fixated on a single vault. Harrier's curiosity overcame his fear and he darted into the room, concealing himself behind a pile of empty crates. He lay still for a full minute before he dared inch forward until he could see though a gap between two crates.

The yellow Seeker was scanning the room. For a second, Harrier could have sworn she was looking right at him. Then she turned back to the group. "Nothing."

"Stop your paranoia, Tempest," Backfire growled. "You're starting to irritate me."

"You'd rather be discovered?" she snapped back.

Backfire slapped her hard across the face, driving her back into the wall. "I'll give the orders here. You might be my consort, but you are not my commander. Is that understood?"

For a moment, the Seeker's optics betrayed hurt shock-and then that shock was consumed by angry fire. She climbed to her feet, her face lit by furious light, and then she bowed her head. When she straightened up, her expression was contrite.

"I'm sorry, Backfire," she whispered.

"See that it doesn't happen again. I'm in charge here and don't you forget it."

Harrier's fuel tank sank a little. Consort. Tempest and Backfire were a mated pair.

~How dare he treat her that way...~

~What are you going to do about it, oh Duke of Decepticons? You're the kitchen help, you're not even armed and you wouldn't last a second against Backfire.~

No, he wasn't seriously thinking of challenging the pirate. But to think of Tempest choosing a brute like that for her mate...there was no justice in this universe.

Backfire finished punching a set of numbers into a tiny keyboard on his left arm, and when he hit the final key, a hinged hatch opened in the back of his left hand. Smirking, the black and yellow pirate withdrew a key.

"That opens the vault?" the Seeker asked.

"Don't even think it," he growled. "Takes more than the key." He turned the key in the lock, then reached into the hollow in his hand again and drew out a tiny connector cable. "This lock requires a personal touch." Grinning nastily, he plugged the cable into a small receptacle on the door. Then he moved his hand...and the door, attached to the cable, swung open.

Tempest took a step forward, and as she did so, she blocked Harrier's view. Backfire shouldered her aside and took a thick stack of credits that his goons had handed him. Carefully placing them inside, he proceeded to close the door, disconnect the cable, turn the lock, and replace both cable and key in his left hand.

Harrier glanced at the yellow female. She seemed impressed by what she had seen in the vault. Backfire glared at her, then stalked out of the room with his two thugs right behind him. Tempest followed them, but before she left, she looked back over her shoulder at the pile of crates.

Harrier waited a full ten cycles before he left the room, and even then, he left not by the path that led back up to the bar, but by the long and winding back entrance, leading to an outcropping of rock a good mile away. Transforming into jet mode, he fired his engines and raced back, hoping Gnarth hadn't noticed his absence. Upon reaching the building, he pried open the window of a storage room in back and crawled inside, ready to make his way back to the main room via the kitchen.

When Harrier finally reached the bar, Backfire and his goons were relaxing in a corner and tossing back energon lager. Tempest was perched on the windowsill, looking out into the night...

...and Gnarth was looming out of nowhere, unexpectedly, too sudden and quick for Harrier to react before Gnarth's fist had struck him underneath the jaw and set him reeling against the wall to land in a pile below the window.

"Lazy little rustbucket," Gnarth snarled. "That's the last time you slack off unscathed, you miserable..."

The Rokkan broke off in mid-sentence. Harrier, dazed, peeked upward, trying to figure out why. The first thing he saw was blue feet right beside him, with jet engines in the heels...then a blur of yellow...and he realized that Tempest was standing next to him, her gun barrel once again pointed at Gnarth. She said nothing, simply eyed the bartender with a flat and focused gaze.

Gnarth looked into the barrel and his singed cheek twitched. Shooting Harrier a ferocious glare, he retreated into the kitchen.

Harrier scrabbled to his feet, trying to think of what to say. Tempest dropped her arm and watched him lurch upright, her expression unreadable.

"Th...thanks," Harrier managed to spit out, but by then, the Seeker's head was turned towards the door where Gnarth had disappeared.

"Scum," she said, probably referring to Gnarth, and then she turned away as if she had forgotten that Harrier was even there.

The young Decepticon watched her as she returned to the group of pirates. Backfire and his bodyguards were all half-loaded; evidently the pirate captain was either too drunk to notice what Tempest had done, or else too drunk to care. One of the thugs had found an entertainment bot to keep him company; she was now sitting on his lap, her fingers tracing patterns on his wings. Tempest walked over and curled up next to Backfire; the sight was somewhat sickening to Harrier. There was something about the yellow Seeker, a pride and fire, that made her servility to Backfire downright wrong.

"Another round!" Backfire yelled, wrapping his arm around Tempest's waist.

Harrier sighed. The yellow Seeker might have gotten Gnarth off his back for one night, but Harrier still had to live here. Reluctantly, he went to the kitchen and poured a pitcher of energon lager.

He was just about to push open the door to the bar when it opened in front of him, and he almost ran smack into Tempest. She had a tray with five empty glasses in her hand.

"I'll take it from here," she said, and before he'd had a chance to think he was handing her the pitcher.

What was that, in three of the glasses? Black stuff, thick and dull...but then Tempest had poured lager into the mugs and the black substance completely dissolved in it.

She looked at him, handing him the empty pitcher, her eyes filled with a silent...taunt? Plea? The sharing of a secret?

Whatever it was, it forced him to nod. He took the empty pitcher and set it in the sink, then busied himself cleaning the soiled dishes. He did not trust himself to go back out in the bar, lest his glances or expression give away Tempest's secret.

***

_I flew with that cruiser for almost a year  
My mind in her melted and changed so  
I'd blown up my circuits, I'd gone out of gear  
I was hers all that time  
So strange were her crimes  
Even now, I dare not recall them!_

_Star cruisers are bright, and they light up the night  
And their style it is clean and it thrills you  
They are cool at the kill, you can't keep them in sight  
They will burn up your drive  
And drain off your life  
And they won't even know they have done it!_

_She was a  
Star cruiser, star star cruiser  
Star cruiser, star star cruiser  
She was a mean star cruiser  
And she was cruising me..._

***

Harrier spent the rest of the night avoiding Gnarth. It was easy to do; the Rokkan was withdrawn, obviously shaken by the pirates, and retired early. Harrier finished cleaning the kitchen and took a look at the bar room. The place was a shambles. He sighed and began to push in chairs. Some customer had left a laser pistol behind on the table, which Harrier gingerly hung at his waist. He'd drop the pistol off in the Lost-and-Found behind the bar later. The thing was probably still loaded, too...yet another sign that the Last Best Place was a scum pit.

Looking around the bar, Harrier suddenly found the whole place unbearably oppressive and loathsome. Gnarth wasn't around and would have nothing to complain about as long as the place was clean by morning. Resolving to tidy the bar room later, Harrier slipped out to his private place on the roof.

Dreams. Duke Harrier of the Decepticon Empire. He would come into the bar--a much nicer bar than the Last Best Place--and everyone would stop what they were doing to watch his entrance. The bartender, far more clean and polite than Gnarth would ever be, would show him to the best table in the place. As he sipped an ice-cold energon lager, the girls would crowd around him...

...but in tonight's dream, he pushed them all away. He was here for an evening with a very special lady.

He couldn't bring himself to picture her exactly. Instead, he constructed an imaginary surrogate, slight and curvy like the entertainment bots, pale gold in colour and wearing a gauzy cape...

...but she had two pointed blue spires rising one on each side of her head, sharp wings behind her back, and instead of the gently planed curves common to the bar bots, her face had the sharp angles of a Seeker.

In his heart, he knew who she was.

He would rise to meet her and bow. "My lady..."

And she would...

Noise. Harrier was startled awake by the sound of approaching footsteps. Silently, he rose to his knees and peered over the edge of the roof.

Backfire and his crew were leaving. One of the bodyguards was complaining, evidently wanting to spend the rest of the day with his new girlfriend the entertainment bot, but Backfire would have none of it. They had to catch the shuttle at midday, the pirate leader was saying, and he had plans for a raid on the outpost mine before then. The shuttle would be the perfect getaway.

"And what are you doing with those?" Backfire snarled at Tempest. Harrier looked closer- ~one last look before I never see her again...~ and noticed that she was now carrying weapons, a pair of long thin blades. "We do the fighting here, remember? You're lucky I let you carry lasers. Now give those back to whoever you stole them from..."

"I bought them," Tempest sulked.

"Tough," Backfire snarled. "I won't let it be said that I can't take care of my females myself. Now get rid of them and be quick about it. We have a shuttle to catch."

"We're too drunk," the first bodyguard slurred, stumbling a little.. "We can't fight like this..."

"Drunk?" Backfire roared. "After that little bit? I cut you off early because of this job! You should damned well have sobered up by now. So stop that pathetic act," Backfire staggered a little, "and let's get going!"

As he caught his balance, he stared down in disbelief and then examined his troops again. His stumble had been purely involuntary, and the other two didn't look very steady on their feet either. Only Tempest seemed to be in fighting condition.

The second pirate chimed in. "He's right, Boss. It's not just his girlfriend. There's something wrong. Look at us! We can't pull a job in this condition!"

"Bad energon," the first muttered.

Backfire's optics widened. He leaned forward...almost lost his balance...recovered. "What the... Run systems analysis!"

"Inhibitor fluid present in system," came an automated voice. "Reaction delayed, neurons oper..."

The other two pirates began looking around, on their guard for attack.

They never expected it to come from within their group.

Tempest struck hard and fast, raising both arm lasers together and hammering Backfire in the back, raining blast after blast while the other two pirates were still too stunned to react. Harrier's breath caught in his throat; part of him was appalled at the suddenness and viciousness of the attack, and then his fuel pump was seized in a snarl of worry for Tempest despite the fact that she'd been the one to start it.

The other two pirates didn't stay stunned for long. They rose their laser arms and opened fire on Tempest, ready to defend their leader...

...but Tempest wasn't where she'd been a moment ago. She'd used the engines encased in her feet, blasting herself airborne and drawing those twin blades. As she descended in front of the nearest pirate, her left sword split him right open from head to waist. He toppled, sparking.

She spun in an instant, ready for the second one who was rushing her from behind. She flipped the right sword around in her grip; as he flung himself at her, he impaled himself on the point. She smiled, coldly, dragging the blade upwards as his expression took on a look of pain, surprise, disbelief...and nothingness. Her victim fell back, ripping the sword from her grasp.

There was, however, one thing she hadn't counted on.

Backfire wasn't dead.

The pirate chief sprang to his feet, seizing Tempest by the throat. Her right sword was gone and before she could bring the left one into play, Backfire ripped it out of her hand.

"Little demon," Backfire snarled. "You will live only long enough to regret your treachery...and your very existence!"

Harrier hardly knew what happened next until it was over, and only then did the import of his action strike him. His position on the roof, the weapon at his side, his lady in danger. No question. No hesitation.

He was off the roof in one spring, landing firmly on the ground beside Backfire, using his VTOL engines only enough to prevent himself from stumbling as he touched down. By the time his feet hit earth, the laser pistol was already in his hand. He didn't even really aim just pointed the weapon's muzzle at the center of the pirate's mass and pulled the trigger.

Backfire cried out in sudden pain. Harrier caught a glimpse of Tempest's face, her optics round with surprise and then she'd kicked Backfire in the chest and fired her engines, tearing herself free of his grip. As the pirate sagged on the ground, clutching the hole in his side, and as Harrier stared in disbelief at the damage he'd wrought, Tempest recovered her sword the one she'd used to slice open the first thug and took Backfire's head off with a single clean swing.

And then she turned to Harrier, driving the tip of the blade into the ground, staring at him challengingly with those burning optics.

It was only then he realized that he was still pointing the gun, and since she was standing over Backfire, the weapon's muzzle was now pointed at her. Harrier grinned, somewhat sheepishly, and lowered the weapon.

She eyed him suspiciously, her gaze covering him, studying every detail of his frame. He stood still, unable to think of a thing to say to her, unable to turn his face away from her.

Finally, as if she decided that he was no threat to her, she lifted her sword and pried open the panel on Backfire's left hand..

~The key to the vault.~

"That's not enough," Harrier blurted. Tempest turned her head towards him, questioning and looking somewhat annoyed. He felt like an idiot, but it was too late now. "The lock won't open unless he used that cable hookup. Remember?"

She nodded. "I just had to make sure the key was still there." She lowered the hatch and with one lighting-fast slice, cut off Backfire's hand.

Harrier watched the oil and fluids draining from the stump of the arm not to mention the stump where Backfire's head had been and felt a little sick.

"So now what am I supposed to do about you?" Tempest asked rhetorically.

"H-huh?"

"Are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you coming?"

"C-coming?" He blinked, his vocal box seizing up on him. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going in there, cleaning out Backfire's account, and getting off this two-bit backwater. So, are you coming?" She eyed him up again. "Or are those engines of yours not capable of space flight?"

Harrier was stunned. Space--he'd never really tried. He had nowhere to go, no place to run to. Gnarth might have been a bastard in every sense of the word, but at least here Harrier knew he'd be fed...

...and locked into a life of servitude for as long as he could keep body and spark together.

Part of him said it was crazy, that he was taking an insane gamble. ~You saw how she killed those pirates. How she killed Backfire her lover, her CONSORT for Primus' sake. You think she's going to have any qualms about terminating you?~

But with one more look at that face, at the shapely helmet and those bold, pointed spires, he couldn't refuse.

"There's a back entrance," he said. "We'll attract less attention if we go in the back, get the goods, and leave the same way."

A pause, as if of confusion, and then a slight smile. "So you are space capable."

"Should be."

"You have a name?"

"Harrier," he said, and then elaborated. "Duke Harrier."

~finis~


End file.
